The Maxwell Chapel near Monreith
How long has this been a place of faith?
Even the path up from the roaring shore
Exudes mystery, and the steps are steep,
up a narrow path that leads to nowhere.
But at the top the ancient sea worn stones,
their carvings moulded by the wind
to lumps and blebs, are older even
than the ruined walls that once was their comfort.
The ruin may be roofless and crumbling
but one wall, the west wall has been rebuilt,
sequestered by the Family of hereabouts
to be the east wall of their vault.
Their chapel holds their memories, and their bones.
The ancient faith is kept by ancient stones.
Edward Alport is a retired teacher and proud Essex Boy. He occupies his time as a poet, gardener and writer for children. He has had poetry, articles and stories published in various webzines and magazines and performed on BBC Radio and Edinburgh Fringe. He sometimes posts snarky micropoems on Twitter as @cross_mouse.
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